The Original and His Word

"Oh, shit."

Elijah was standing on the corner, wearing a neat blue and black suit with his hair parted and combed to the side. It was like Hope's breath had been taken from her. She forgot how to breathe for a moment, and it was a painful burst when she did.

This certainly couldn't be good. She was from the future, meeting her uncle in the past, who, eventually, would die in the future. The icing on the cake was that she was still pissed at him. The pent-up anger and aggression she'd felt toward him when her mother…Hope couldn't finish the thought.

It hurt too much to relive that day.

Hope took hold of Newt's hand and murmured. "We need to go…"

"If you don't mind," Elijah spoke in his soft and casual drawl, watching her as if she were a newly started chess game, "I'd like a word."

Speaking before thinking, she said. "Oh, I could give you two words," she held up her right hand with an extended middle finger, "fuck," she held up the left, "you."

Elijah blinked in surprise as a slow smile curved his lips. "It wasn't quite the words I had in mind…" he trailed off, tilting his head to the side as he watched her. Then, without turning his head, he said. "If you intend to surprise an Original Vampire, I suggest you do it more quietly, Professor Dumbledore."

With careful steps, Albus moved up behind Elijah, flanking him with his wand drawn as a precaution.

"I'm sure you can understand my caution…" Albus murmured calmly, inching out of the alley's mouth, his eyes not straying from Elijah. "What is it that you want?" He asked, moving so that he was between the triangle, blocking Elijah from Hope and Newt.

Elijah turned his eyes onto Albus, and Hope watched as his eyes flicked to the wand. He nodded with a slow smile. "A conversation."

Without wavering his posture, Albus nodded slowly. "Not alone."

"Naturally. I dare not take her protectors…"

Hope clenched her hand into a tight fist, glaring at Elijah.

"You know me?" Elijah asked, his eyes on Hope now, and she could feel Newt's arm squeeze a little tighter around her waist. 

It was a little awkward to have a showdown with your soon-to-be deceased traitorous uncle, and given the circumstances, she didn't trust her own voice with him. What if she let slip that she was his niece? 

That she was from the future?

Hope couldn't imagine the Ministry of Magic would be very happy, and while this man may be her uncle in the future, she didn't know him. 

Not this Elijah. Not the Elijah from 1929. 

This Elijah might be entirely different from the one she grew up with.

When she didn't answer, he gave a slow nod. "We can go back inside and have a little…discussion."

Hope watched him before glancing at Albus, who pursed his lips thinly.

"It's your choice," Albus murmured, and she knew he would do whatever it took to get them away from Elijah if she asked, but there was a part of her that wanted to see why he would seek her out.

Did he know she wasn't from this time or that she was a Mikaelson?

Biting her lip, she sighed and nodded, stepping forward. "A five-minute conversation."

With a chuckle, Elijah nodded. "Hm, that's doable." He turned and walked around the corner to go into the pastry shop. It was bold, turning his back to three people, two of whom held wands at the ready.

Original Vampire or not, he wasn't impervious to magic.

Hope followed, and the three of them joined one of the larger tables where she sat in the middle seat, and Newt and Albus sat on either side of her. Sandwiching her in.

They didn't know who this was, and while she knew they knew she could take care of herself, it was nice to be cared for.

To feel their protection.

"Okay," Hope leaned back, studying Elijah with a quizzical expression, "so talk."

He didn't speak at first. Instead, he studied her curiously, brows knitted together, and eyes narrowed. "Hm," he said before drumming his fingers against the wood top, "Lisette is dead."

Hope blinked as confusion washed over her. That's what this was about? Lisette?

"And according to her sister, you were among the last to speak with her."

Nodding slowly, she wanted to look at Albus and Newt but steeled herself to remain still and silent. Just because he wanted to talk didn't mean she had to speak so readily.

Elijah smiled crookedly. "They say you killed her."

Her sharp tongue got the better of her. "Why would you care if I did?" Hope asked, raising a brow. "I didn't, but what's it matter to you?"

"Well," Elijah began with a soft sigh, "I owed her a debt of safety for certain…favors she's done for me in the past. Now she is dead, and…that forced my word to be broken."

A chill ran down Hope's spine. Elijah was forced to break his word, which he held most dear. Rubbing the back of her neck, she shook her head and wondered how much could she reveal to him? Indeed, she couldn't tell him the whole truth, but something had to be said.

Guilt threatened the back of her throat, trying to tighten it so she couldn't speak. But she had to; maybe this was how she could repay Lisette for leading her to her own death. Because, while Hope had held the knife that slit her throat, she'd painted a bloody X on her back as a target.

"I didn't kill Lisette," Hope finally said, looking at Elijah, "but I don't know…how much of it was my fault." She admitted, a little quieter.

Elijah continued to sit, watching her with a stillness she could only compare to Albus. They had a similar demeanor when it came to mind games. 

Well, she could unpack that in therapy someday.

"Go on…" Elijah frowned, eyes only on her. Completely ignoring the Wizards at the table.

"I met her on a tour, and when she touched my hand, I can only assume she saw a vision. She asked us to meet her at her shop the next morning, but she was already dead when we arrived. I don't know what she saw, and I honestly don't know who killed her, but it wasn't us. I tried to look for more clues later, but they had already taken her body to desecrate before I had the chance."

Hope spilled it out, leaving out her lost memories and the tidbits of being from a hundred years into the future, of course.

Elijah tapped his finger on the table, seemingly relaxed, but Hope knew this side of her uncle. He was far from comfortable, but he wasn't about to let on that he wasn't.

"I suppose if that's all you can relay…"

"It is."

Nodding slowly, he began to stand, fixing his cuff links with pristine efficiency. "I must warn you, Mikael has been spotted nearby…"

Hope froze. She looked up at him, her heart hammering horrifically hard against her ribcage.

Mikael.

The abusive son-of-a-bitch 'man' who had beaten her father physically, emotionally, and mentally. Then, he chased him around the world for hundreds of years. Causing panic and pain in her family for so long.

He was alive in this time…hunting.

Elijah moved closer to her so swiftly that Albus withdrew his wand from under the table and moved to stand between them. Still, Elijah's eyes were not on either Wizard but solely focused on Hope.

"I do not need you to tell me why you hate that name."

"I never said-"

"You didn't need to," he cut her off, "the moment I mentioned Mikael, your entire body language changed." He glanced down at her hand, where her nails had bitten into her palm and drew blood. "That kind of hate can only come from someone who understands." He paused, staring at her so intently her breath caught in her throat. "I will keep in touch, Hope…" He narrowed his eyes. "My suspicions do not need answers, for my own sake and yours. Simply know that I am not your enemy," he paused again, "I give you my word."

Hope swallowed hard, and as quickly as he'd reached her, he moved away. He nodded to Albus. "Professor Dumbledore," then to Newt, "Professor Scamander. A pleasure." Elijah gave a crooked smile, then, with one last glance at Hope, left the pastry shop.

Leaving them with more confusion than he'd found them with.

"Who's Mikael?" Newt asked, voice a little shaken as he watched the door close behind the Original's back.

Hope took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she watched Elijah disappear into the dark shadows of London.

"He's part of a story I can't tell without a few drinks first."